Somewhere Beyond
by starry19
Summary: "He was coming alive again, almost before her eyes, and it was all she could do not to stare."
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: This is unmitigated fluff and I will not apologize for it. I just need it right now. This is my equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and humming in regards to the spoilers.

Multichapter! Yes, really. My goal here is to explore what their life could be like together, with the start of their relationship being a beginning, and not the final result, of a story.

And this might be a little bit of an M rated first chapter. So sue me.

You might have noticed that MleeWrite, Donna, and I are writing a Christmas story. You should check it out - I'm thrilled and honored to be working with two of my favorite writers. It's a little daunting, and it's a challenge to bring my game up to their level, but I love it.

That being said..I hope you enjoy_ this_ piece.

**Somewhere Beyond**

When he invited her over to his shiny new Airstream trailer the first time, she accepted readily, curious to see how Jane would decorate a space of his own that was actually meant to be a home.

His hotel room had been deliberately impersonal, the attic bedecked with pictures of murder scenes the last time she had seen it.

Here in Texas, he had curtains and landscape paintings and a ceramic rooster that he apparently got simply because it amused him.

It was almost surreal, but it was wonderful to see Jane do something as normal as make dinner for her.

Even though the trailer itself was mobile, it seemed like he was putting down roots, something for which she was very grateful. He had spent so many years living like a gypsy. True, he hadn't exactly moved around, but she had always known that his presence was far from permanent, even if she hadn't liked thinking about it very much.

It was all different now.

Their first meal together at his place was chicken alfredo, done to perfection, red wine, and honest-to-God homemade bread. When he made a meal, he pulled out all the stops. She should have expected it.

She had smiled almost the entire time, was still smiling when she finally tore herself away from this fascinating version of the man she had known for so long and made the drive back to her new place.

Since the first moment she had seen him since his return to the US, she had known there was something different about him. He was lighter, brighter, happy to be where he was, unbothered by the darkness of revenge for the first time since they'd met.

And she was different, too.

She wasn't the boss. Well, not _his_ boss, anyway. What Patrick Jane did was someone else's problem, and now that she could let go of the constant fear that he would do something to get her or her team fired (or, regarding some of his more elaborate schemes, killed), it was so much easier to relax and enjoy him for the man he was becoming.

For Patrick Jane was certainly changing.

He was coming alive again, almost before her eyes, and it was all she could do not to stare.

The next day, he brought her leftovers for lunch, dragging her outside to what had become one of his favorite spots. There was a small courtyard, peppered with round, plastic tables, hidden from the view of passing motorists by a row of neatly trimmed hedges.

He sat close enough that they kept bumping into each other.

"I'm thinking about installing surround sound in the trailer," he told her.

She frowned. "You don't have a TV."

He shrugged. "I'm getting one. Tonight. Come with me."

It wasn't a request.

She could feel his magnetic pull. There was never a question of resisting, even as the rational part of her mind wondered where this was all going to lead.

Her second night at his trailer was spent using a cordless drill to mount a television to the wall. Jane looked absurdly pleased at the results.

She found this a bit odd, considering she didn't know if she had ever seen him watch a show in the first place. Perhaps he was just buying things that he thought he was supposed to have. Whatever the reason, it clearly made him happy, so she didn't question it too closely.

They ordered pizza and flipped through the four channels he got without cable or satellite, settling on some stupid quiz show. He won their impromptu competition, demanding the last slice of pepperoni as his reward.

Four days later, she was at his place again, and then two nights after that.

Jane had never been to her house. She wasn't sure why - mainly because she had yet to invite him. This new dynamic with him took some getting used to, and she needed somewhere free of his presence to think about what it all meant.

But Jane seemed to accept whatever barriers she was erecting, apparently perfectly content to have her continue to spend time at the trailer.

Her seventh night there turned out to be the most significant.

It was late, almost midnight, and they had managed to work their way through a couple bottles of cheap wine, talking about some of Jane's more notable exploits. Hearing what he had actually been thinking, some of the lengths he had gone to while putting plans in motion had her laughing until she cried.

Jane leaned forward once, brushing her tears away as he chuckled.

She looked up, suddenly becoming aware of how very close his face was.

Their eyes, met, held, and she swore she could see the exact moment when he decided to cross the line that had divided them for so long.

Her arms were around his neck almost before he'd kissed her, her back pressed against the couch cushions before she could process what his mouth felt like.

Twelve years of wanting came uncorked all at once, and she lost herself in a haze of tangled limbs and hastily removed clothing, only able to speak when Jane suddenly stood, scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder.

Her hair almost touched the floor as he walked down the short hallway.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

He slid her down his body, settling her on the down comforter. "Taking you to bed," he whispered, and she shivered, too hot and too cold.

His unbuttoned shirt fell to the floor, and she reached her arms out to him, savoring the first, precious moment when skin met skin. She could feel goosebumps on his bare flesh.

He kissed her again, deeply, thoroughly, her hands sinking into his blonde curls, the way she always dreamed of doing. He tasted like an eight dollar bottle of Moscato and if this wasn't sensuality incarnate, she didn't know what was.

His hands were everywhere, sliding and caressing like he was doing his best to commit every curve to memory.

"I want you so much," he breathed once, lips against her collarbone.

She grasped at his hips then, urging him forward, but he resisted. She felt his smile.

"I've waited a long time for this," he told her. "I'm not going to be rushed."

He meant it, and she found herself clawing at the comforter before long, breath coming in short, panting sobs. Jane was going to have nail marks on his shoulders and back, and the thought gave her an unexpected jolt of purely savage pleasure.

Eventually, he wound his fingers through hers, hands on either side of her head. She opened her eyes, wanting to see his face, and it took her breath away.

She realized she was shaking like this was her first time, and in a way, it was. It was the only time that truly mattered.

He let himself go, relinquished the control he kept over his every emotion, every action, said her name, lips staying parted in silent ecstasy, body trembling.

The only sound in the room was her breathing, Jane's shaky gasps muffled in her neck, his warm weight resting on her.

She pressed her cheek against his sweaty hair, fingers tracing patterns over his damp skin.

Eventually, he raised his head, and the smile he gave her, like a sunrise breaking, made her heart stutter.

They had been working towards this for so long that to think they were finally here took some processing, and she sucked in a deep breath.

He pressed a hand against her face, opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but closed it again.

Patrick Jane at a loss for words. She didn't know there was such a thing, and she grinned so widely she thought her face might split.

There was a rustling of covers as he switched positions, gathering her up against his chest. She could still hear his pulse beating rapidly under her ear, one of his hands sliding through her hair over and over.

Absently, she thought that this must be close to what heaven was like, then chuckled at her own whimsy.

"Most men don't like to be laughed at in bed," he said, still slightly out of breath.

She swatted at him lightly. "Stop fishing for compliments. I'm sure you know precisely how good you are."

It was his turn to laugh. "Why don't you tell me? I can compare notes with myself."

Propping herself up with one elbow on his chest, she surveyed him thoughtfully. "Hm," she murmured. "Perhaps we could re-enact some of my favorite parts."

His eyes went dark again, hands methodically pulling the sheet away from her flushed body. "An encore," he mused. "Well...if you insist."

Yes. She did insist.

The second time, she tried to repay some of the torture she had been given and was rewarded with something that sounded very much like begging. Her head fell back, her palms flat against his body, his hands splayed on her hips.

Later, burrowed under the plush blankets, Jane still half draped over her, she took half a second to wonder what all of this meant, what the implications would be when the sun rose again.

Then he pressed a tiny kiss against her bare shoulder, curling closer, and she decided she didn't care. She had him for tonight after what seemed like a lifetime of waiting.

Eyes closed now, she simply let herself be happy, to appreciate what she had been given.

Jane moved, reaching for another pillow, she thought, then re-settled himself, taking her hand again.

Pleasantly exhausted, she rested all of her weight on him, toying with his fingers.

There was a slight indentation on one of them, and she frowned, eyes fluttering slightly open.

His wedding ring was gone.

The emotion that rushed through her was almost tangible.

He noticed her preoccupation, kissed her hair. "Go to sleep," he whispered. "Everything is alright."

Still shaken, she turned on her side, both of her arms wrapping around one of his. The mattress dipped as he mimicked her posture, nose almost touching the back of her neck.

She smelled like him now, had been abrasions from his beard just about every place on her body. It was...something that she had dreamed about.

And it still seemed like a dream.

Were they really here? In Texas? In a silver Airstream?

Maybe she had fallen asleep on her desk in Washington, or even in California, and there was no Blake Association, no Chief Lisbon of Cannon River. Jane had never left, had never strangled someone in a park one sunny day.

She shivered for a different reason, and his arms tightened around her. His lips pressed against her spine.

"Sleep," he said again. "You can think in the morning."

Her eyes closed again, and she focused on Jane's breathing.

And, despite _everything_, she drifted off in his arms.

He was right. She could think tomorrow.

**AN: I thrive on reviews. Yes, that was a shameless hint. Hope you enjoyed this!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Two chapters in two days? Say whaaaat? So, obviously, I'm really enjoying writing this one. The tone of this chapter is a little different...chapter one was supposed to be more surreal, more like dreams coming true. This one deals with real life and all of its awkward moments and uncertainty.

Thanks so much for all the reviews, everyone. I'm a little shocked at the response, but in the best way possible.

Again, I'd love to hear what you're thinking, so let me know! Enjoy!

**Somewhere Beyond**

**Chapter Two**

He woke up the next morning without opening his eyes. He had slept heavily, dreamlessly, and it took a moment for him to recall what had happened the night before.

When he did, his lids snapped open.

Lisbon was wrapped in one of his ivory sheets, dark hair trailing down her back in stark contrast, her head on his chest, one arm thrown around his waist.

She frowned suddenly, and he realized she was reacting to his abrupt tension. He relaxed his embrace and her face smoothed out as she unconsciously snuggled closer.

He smiled broadly, tenderly, watching the morning light brush over her pale cheek.

It had taken them a long time to get here, but it was worth it.

He had known since the moment he decided to come back to the US that this was going to happen. For years, he had dreamed about it, but as he outlined his terms on that yellow napkin, he had _known_ that it was inevitable.

Even with his vivid imagination, however, he had been unable to really paint a clear picture of what this would truly be like.

Her hands sliding over the planes of his chest, the heat of her skin, the way she said his name...nothing in fantasy could ever compare to the reality he had encountered the night before.

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his wedding ring lying on the bedside table, standing out brightly in the sunshine.

It was time to leave it off.

Lisbon stirred against his side, and he brought his attention back to her small form. Her lashes fluttered, green eyes looking dazed as she took in her surroundings.

She finally met his gaze, and her face colored.

"Good morning," he said quietly, amused by her unexpected reaction.

"Um, hi," she replied, looking like she wanted to hide under the sheets.

He chuckled softly, tilting his head to kiss the tip of her nose. She was shy. It was...unbelievably endearing.

"Try to stop blushing before work," he advised. "People are going to wonder."

Gasping, she pushed herself up, looking over at the glowing numbers on the alarm clock. "Work! Shit!" she almost shouted, taking the sheet with her as she rolled out of bed.

He flicked his eyes at the clock. It was decidedly well-past the time they needed to be up, but he honestly couldn't care less.

From down the hall, he heard the shower turn on and he smirked again.

Languidly, he swung his legs onto the floor, noting his muscles were more than a little sore. He was getting old, he thought. He pulled on his pants, then his shirt, not bothering to button it.

He paused at the bathroom door. "Towels are in the closet," he said, amusement evident in his voice.

"Can you get my bag out of the car?" she asked, sounding more than a little agitated.

"Sure," he replied. Years of being a CBI agent had ingrained in her the habit of always having a packed bag, since she could never predict if she was going to be sent out of town on a moment's notice.

Stopping in the kitchen to stretch, he looked around.

He didn't have a coffee maker.

Frowning now, he walked to her car barefoot, her keys jingling in his hand. There was a Starbucks a few blocks away, one that conveniently had a drive through.

She would be tempted to shoot him if she got out of the shower and her stuff wasn't there, but perhaps she would be less likely to fatally wound him if she had coffee.

He was back in ten minutes.

Lisbon did not look pleased, peering impatiently out of the window when he drove up.

She was wrapped in a towel, wet hair curling around her face, and he reached for her hips, caught off guard by the picture she made. She ducked around him, though, snatching her bag with one hand and her coffee with the other.

"Thanks," she said hurriedly, scurrying back down the hall.

He realized he was smiling again. Of all of the ways he had pictured their first morning together, this was not one of them. In his mind, usually they never left the bed.

Well, that's what he got for doing this on a weeknight.

He snorted. His own thoughts were a little ridiculous.

In the bathroom, Lisbon was hurriedly digging through her make-up bag, already most of the way dressed. He lounged in the doorway, teacup in one hand.

After another three minutes, she was haphazardly tossing things back into her bag, hair pulled back into a bun.

She avoided his outstretched arm again as she brushed by him on her way out to the kitchen, snatching up her cellphone from the countertop. Her eyes landed on some of her discarded clothes from the night before, and her face turned a deeper shade of crimson.

Bracing one hand on the wall, she stepped into her shoes.

Just as she went to reach for the door handle, he interfered, sliding his arms around her waist and refusing to let her slip away.

For the first time since she'd gotten up, she met his eyes, and he saw uncertainty there.

His smile softened, and he leaned down to kiss her, one hand cupping her face. He was gentle, barely brushing her lips until she tentatively reached up and pressed her fingers to his jaw.

He pulled back eventually, giving her one last quick peck before he opened the door.

"See you at work," he said, and, still blushing, she nodded, practically running to the car.

He started laughing almost before he shut the door behind her, couldn't stop as he gathered up the rest of her clothes from where they had landed just a few hours ago. Her bra was lodged under the couch, and the pleased expression on his face was suddenly for a reason other than amusement.

Oh, today was going to be interesting indeed.

**XxXxXxXxX**

Lisbon managed to avoid him for almost the entire day. For the most part, that had been nothing but intentional.

He had gotten to work about fifteen minutes late, managing to sneak past Abbott and Kim on his way to the couch.

Lisbon wasn't in the bullpen, though her stuff was at her desk. He settled himself on his couch, crossing his legs, fresh cup of tea in hand.

After he'd gotten out of the shower this morning, he'd found nail marks on his back, and he'd spent a very happy few minutes recalling, precisely, how he'd gotten them.

Around eleven, he found Cho and asked where the hell Lisbon had gone. Starting to get slightly twitchy, he had tried to engage in his usual habit of twisting his wedding band. He could still feel its phantom imprint against his skin and he wondered how long it would be before he stopped instinctively checking for it.

The other man blinked. "She's been in a meeting with Fischer all morning. I don't know what about." There was a pause. "Why?"

Jane shrugged. "No reason. I just like to keep track of her."

He could almost see the wheels spinning in Cho's mind. "She looked distracted this morning when I saw her," he said. "Is everything okay?"

"I hope so," he muttered, looking in the direction of Kim's office.

She couldn't possibly be regretting what had happened, could she? He knew very well that she'd wanted this as long as he had. It was just sudden, that was all, and she was adjusting.

It was after two when he saw her, a stack of files tucked under one arm. She almost missed a step when she noticed him, face going bright red again.

Honestly, she might as well have been wearing a sign that said they were sleeping together.

"Hi," he said.

She wouldn't meet his eyes. "Hey." Somehow, her tower of files got arranged in such a manner that blocked his view of her once she sat at her desk.

They were called into a briefing for the rest of the afternoon, wrapping up a case they'd solved the week before. Abbott held him back for a few words at the end, and Lisbon was gone by the time he made it to the bullpen.

Well, she couldn't just avoid him forever.

He would give her a few hours at home to get her bearings, and then they needed to talk. He flatly refused to have another day like they'd had today. There was no reason for this to be so damned difficult.

Her lights were on when he drove up, and he took his first real look at the place. It was small, well-maintained, with white siding and gray shutters. She had a potted plant out on the tiny porch, and he smiled.

She did not looked pleased to see him.

"Good evening," he said formally, holding up the bottle of wine he'd grabbed on his way over. "I think we have some things to discuss."

She stepped aside to let him in, looking like she thought this was a bad idea. "No wine," she said firmly.

"Why?" he asked, voice supremely nonchalant. "Afraid you might get into bed with me again?"

"Jesus, Jane," she hissed, cheeks coloring again.

"What?" he demanded. "Are we going to pretend it didn't happen? Because I have a bag full of your clothes and a back covered in scratches that say otherwise."

She sat down heavily on her couch, running her hands down her face. He perched next to her, reaching for one of her hands.

"Teresa," he murmured, "do you mind telling me what the problem is?"

Finally, she met his eyes. "I don't know what to do," she whispered hopelessly. "I don't know what to do now. It all seemed so easy last night, but today..."

"Who says it has to be hard?" he wanted to know. He frowned. "Do you regret it?"

Almost instantly, she shook her head. "No."

He let out a relieved breath. "Then we can figure the rest of this out."

She looked unconvinced.

"I mean it," he told her. "This doesn't have to be difficult, some big complicated thing. Just tell me what you want."

Her mouth opened, then shut again.

He leaned closer, bringing their foreheads together. "Tell me what you want," he breathed.

Her eyes fluttered close. "You. Just you."

His smile was tender as he drew her into his arms. She gave up her resistance, resting heavily against him. "I think we can arrange that," he told her hair.

"Really?" she asked, cheek against his heart. "Just like that?"

He laughed. "Yeah, just like that, if you don't count the last twelve years."

She snuck her arms around his waist. "No more running away?" she verified.

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me," he assured her, and he heard her sigh contentedly.

"You better mean that," she warned.

He tipped her chin up. "You have permission to shoot me if I leave." He stole a quick kiss, marveling just a bit that it was now okay to do this. "Now," he went on, "I want a tour of your new house. Since, you know, you haven't ever invited me over."

Lisbon shook her head, looking like she couldn't quite believe what was happening but had decided to go along with it anyway. "Fine," she said. "Follow me."

Their tour didn't make it past the bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Wow. What a response! You guys are amazing and wonderful and a whole host of other adjectives that mean _awesome._

I'm not really sure about this chapter, but there were some questions that needed to be dealt with as far as their relationship was concerned, and I hope I managed to do them justice.

If you haven't done so, I urge you to check out the collaboration fic I'm doing with MleeWrite and Donnamour, "My Blue Christmas." We're all having a great time with it, and I'm sure you'll enjoy it!

**Somewhere Beyond**

**Chapter Three**

For the next two weeks, Lisbon battled the urge to pinch herself at least twice a day to make sure she hadn't wandered into some extremely realistic dream.

Once, she thought she had gotten used to life with Patrick Jane - his quirks, his pain-in-the-ass tendencies, the unexpectedly sweet gestures he sometimes made with no warning at all.

As it turned out, everything was different when she was in...a relationship...with the man. Life had taken on another color entirely.

He bought a coffee maker for his place, one of the fancy ones, justifying the expense by saying he didn't want to wander to Starbucks barefoot anymore. She had rolled her eyes, but had loved the thought of him doing something to make her feel more at home when she stayed with him.

In reciprocation, she had bought an obscenely large amount of Jane's favorite tea to keep stocked in her cupboards. The cashier had raised an eyebrow. She had intended to say that it was a gift, but she stuttered so badly over the word _boyfriend_ that her explanation was lost.

Is that what he was? Her boyfriend?

They hadn't spent a night apart since the first time they had fallen into bed. The sex was indescribable, but for her, the most important night was when, exhausted after a long day of catching connecting flights, he simply fell asleep with her in his arms.

This was a side of him she had never seen, and she cherished every moment of it. After twelve years, she finally got to see him in something other than a suit.

Sometimes, the domesticity caught her off guard. The first time she watched him wander around her house in pajama pants, toothbrush stuck in his mouth, she had been unable to stop gawking.

It was strange and perfect.

To her surprise, Jane had managed to make it easy to behave normally at work, mainly by pulling some fairly outrageous stunts the first few days after their relationship began. She didn't have to fake her annoyance with him.

She was also fairly confident that they were keeping their new intimacy off the radar, at least as far as most of the FBI was concerned. Cho, naturally, had figured it out within the first week.

They had been sitting on Jane's couch, talking, like they had always used to do at the CBI. She had made sure she was no closer to him than a friend would be, and their conversation was actually about a case.

The other man had stood in front of them for a moment, face inscrutable. Then he had simply said, "It's about time," and walked away.

She had turned to Jane with wide eyes. He was smiling.

"How did he know?" she hissed in a whisper.

Jane's grin never faltered. "Because it's Cho, obviously."

Although she wasn't entirely sure how to act all of the time, it was nice to not have to sort through all of the nuances of ordinary relationships. They both knew that this was an all-in type of deal, but sometimes it still made her pause.

It was a Tuesday night. Jane was lounging on the couch in her living room, his head in her lap, her fingers absently toying with his curls as she listened to him play along with the contestants on Jeopardy.

Naturally, he was winning.

If they were ever hard up for money, he could go on a game show and walk away with millions

Abruptly, he turned, looking up at her. "All of this living out of a suitcase is getting old," he said.

She smirked. "Says the man who lived in a hotel for ten years."

He ignored the comment. "My point is that it would make more sense if I just left things here." There was a pause. "You are, of course, welcome to do the same."

"Are you actually asking permission?" she wondered, looking down in surprise. "I honestly just assumed I'd wake up one day and find that you'd taken over half of my closet."

Jane shrugged, looking amused. "It was a courtesy ask." Meaning he was going to do whatever he wanted anyway.

The next morning, after she untangled herself from him, she discovered he'd already made space for his things in the bathroom. It made her heart skip a beat.

But what she really enjoyed was leaving her own possessions in the Airstream. Considering the sort of secretive person Jane usually was, it was a momentous step. For a decade, she had been the one doing the conceding. His presence in her office, his invasion of her personal space. On the contrary, most of the time she was (literally) locked out of the attic, prevented from leaving a reminder of her presence in any space that was uniquely _his_.

So it was with a sense of quiet pride and triumph that she hung a suit in the closet, put her shampoo in the shower, bought a cell phone charger for her side of the bed.

Patrick Jane was hers now, and it was nice to be able to show it, at least here, to have a visible reminder that_ she_ was the one that got to sleep next to him, to tease him as he obsessed over scrambled eggs, to unexpectedly jump him in the bathroom's tiny shower.

For the first time in forever, life was how she wanted it. Her work at the FBI was rewarding, challenging. Jane was a free man, in more ways than one, and she got to spend the vast majority of every day with him.

She hadn't seen his wedding ring since their first night together. He had a tan line on his finger, but that, too, would go away eventually.

In the fourth week of their relationship, they boarded a plane to California to investigate a new case. It was the first time she had been back since she'd left for Washington. Strange - it had been home for so long, and she had missed it for months, but now she understood she had just missed Jane, missed how life was with him.

He held her hand as they descended into Sacramento, and she realized this might mean something to him, too.

"We've come a long way since the CBI, haven't we?" he murmured.

"You're telling me," she muttered back.

Jane looked thoughtful. She wondered if he was reliving the ten years they had spent here, years edged in doubt and darkness, searching for vengeance. It was amazing that they had made it through that time relatively unscathed.

Then again, that wasn't really true, physically or emotionally. Jane would always be scarred. Though he had healed as much as he probably could, the ragged edges of his wounds would always be there.

He had lost his entire world in one fell swoop, had nearly lost his mind, had shot three people and choked the life from a fourth.

She could still remember the chills she had gotten when Abbott told her how McAllister had been killed.

It wasn't something she thought _her_ Jane would have been capable of.

But that was stupid - he hadn't been hers, not really.

She, however, had always been most assuredly his.

She had taken a bullet for his cause, had killed people to protect him, had broken almost every one of her personal and professional principles for him, lied, covered up evidence, had walked the line between what was right and wrong for so long that it had become blurry.

And she knew she would do it again.

"I wonder if my couch is still here," he mused. "Think the FBI would let me bring it back?"

She smiled. "Doubtful. And where would you put it?"

Jane shrugged. "Your living room, probably."

"Or not," she said, eyebrows raised.

He pretended to look hurt. "Why not, Lisbon? I love that couch."

They touched down with a slight bump, and she shook her head. "For one," she told him, "it doesn't go with the rest of my decor. For another, you'd probably wind up sleeping there, and I've discovered I like having you next to _me_."

He gave her a long suffering sigh, indicating that she clearly didn't understand the gravity of the situation, and she had to chuckle.

She looked out the window as they rolled to a stop. Jane's voice suddenly in her ear made her jump. "But just think of the ways we could _not_ sleep on the couch," he breathed. "And don't you dare try to tell me you never thought about it."

Her face flushed, since he was absolutely right. She had any number of fantasies involving Jane and that couch.

Perhaps they would have to look for it after all.

Later, at the crime scene, she stood by Agent Fischer, Jane doing his usual routine of putting a puzzle together by simply snooping through the victim's things.

"He's fascinating to watch, isn't he?" the other woman said once, her tone considering.

She pressed her lips into a straight line, ignoring her sudden possessiveness. "That he is," she agreed. After all, it was true. "Especially when he's not trying to cause trouble."

"I see he's taken his wedding ring off again," Fischer noted, voice even.

She blinked. "Again?" she asked, turning.

"Yeah." She looked down at the notes in her hand, apparently double-checking something. "He was wearing it when we met, but took it off before we went out for dinner that night." Distracted now, she walked across the room to confer with Cho.

There was a hot, sick feeling in her stomach.

Would she ever be the first with him? She hadn't been his first date, first kiss, first time, first person he'd taken his wedding ring off for.

Was he just with her because she was comfortable, familiar?

For a second, she thought she was going to throw up.

Yes, he cared about her, she knew that, but had he decided on this relationship with her simply because it was easier than opening up to anyone else?

Her heart felt like it was made of lead.

Jane had found his way to her side without her noticing. "Are you alright?" he asked, clearly concerned. "You look, well...not great," he finished.

She was sure that was an understatement. There was no simple way out of this situation. "Uh, no," she finally said. "I really don't feel well." That much was true. To put a fine point on it, she felt awful, ready to shatter.

Amazing how life could change with a few simple words.

For the first time ever, she was intensely grateful for Agent Fischer, who took one look at her too-pale face and sent her back to the hotel.

Jane's worried eyes followed her.

She spent the rest of the afternoon facedown on the bed, wondering what the hell she was doing.

Around eight that night, there was a knock on the door. Reluctantly, she stood, knowing that Jane wouldn't go away until she let him in.

He had gotten rid of his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves.

Absently, she caught herself thinking that she missed his vests.

She didn't speak, just turned and walked back to the bed, resuming the position she had been in. The mattress depressed under his weight, and she felt one of his hands run through her hair.

"Tell me what's wrong," he murmured, leaning over her.

Her first instinct was to lie to him, but he would know, like always. With a deep sigh, she rolled over.

Whatever he saw in her face made him frown. "Teresa," he said, "tell me."

She tapped his ring finger. "Did you take that thing off for every pretty woman you met on that island, or was Agent Fischer the only one?"

His eyes filled with sudden understanding, and the corners of his mouth turned up.

Which just pissed her off. How dare he be amused by this?

"For _once_," she hissed, "I wanted to be the first in your life."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he wanted to know.

"All these other women that have come and gone," she spat out, "the ones that you swear didn't mean anything...why were they the ones that got you to cross the lines?" Shamefully, she realized she was near tears. But she had put so much importance on him getting rid of that ring, and to learn that she hadn't been the first woman to inspire him to do so...it stung bitterly.

"I could live with Kristina Frye," she went on, "I'd even come to terms with Lorelei, as much as I hated it. But this..." she trailed off, swiping angrily at her eyes.

"You think I took off my wedding ring because I was going out with Kim," he said evenly. "You're wrong."

She blinked. "But you did. Take it off, I mean."

He sighed, stretching his legs in front of him. "Yes."

"I don't understand."

Jane looked slightly annoyed with her. "Angela died twelve years ago, Teresa. I've worn my ring that entire time. Do you really think I took it off for a woman I'd known less than a day?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Then _why_?"

"I did it for me," he finally said. "To see if I could, if I was ready to." He looked around the room like he was gathering his thoughts. "I spent almost two years on that island trying to get on with my life, and I thought I had. Then Kim called me out on my ring, and I realized I was still holding on to the past."

"But you put it back on," she objected.

He nodded thoughtfully. "I did, temporarily. I wasn't moving on, but I think that was because I didn't have anyone I wanted to move on _with_. That is, until I came back." He widened his eyes, and the unspoken message was clear.

_Until we were together._

Jane leaned over her, nose almost touching hers. "I love _you_ and I want _you_, and whatever else is going through your mind right now, you need to understand that. There hasn't been anyone else in my life who _mattered_ for twelve years."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"You might not have gotten the first date or the first kiss, but you get the rest of them. Isn't that better anyway?" He softly pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth.

Relenting, she reached for him, arms going around his waist.

With a grateful sigh, he pulled her into his embrace, burying his nose in her hair.

"Was that our first fight?" he asked, and she could tell he was smiling.

She closed her eyes, curling closer. "Maybe."

A new sort of tension washed over him, one that she was becoming very familiar with. His lips were at her ear. "You know what that means, right? First make-up sex."

That was one _first_ she was very happy to be a part of.

Later, collapsed in a pile of sheets, Jane's face resting between her shoulder blades, his weight still almost all on top of her, she felt utterly relaxed and peaceful. Really peaceful. He had addressed some questions she hadn't even realized she had.

"Patrick?" she murmured. It took a great effort to even speak.

"Mm?" She could tell he was almost asleep.

"I love you, too."

He squeezed her gently, and she felt his lips just brush the back of her neck.

Her last, distracted thought before drifting off was that their return to California had definitely been a good thing.

Lack of a brown leather couch notwithstanding.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN**: I did say this was unmitigated fluff, right? I wasn't kidding.

Thanks to everyone who's been reading this - I love to know what you're thinking! And go read My Blue Christmas, too! (end shameless plug)

**Somewhere Beyond**

**Chapter Four**

Before he quite knew how it had happened, three months had passed. It was strange - because he had been dancing around this thing with Lisbon for so long, he had assumed that their relationship would be exempt from some of the every day arguments and and trials.

That didn't turn out to be true.

She threatened to kill him one morning if she tripped over his shoes again. He discovered that her inability to clean out her refrigerator until stuff started growing in it disgusted him. Also, she had terrible taste in toothpaste brands.

She could be jealous and irrational on occasion, and he was surprised at how possessive he caught himself being. In fact, any time someone made an overture towards her (and it happened frequently - after all, no one in the FBI knew they were together), he got the irresistible urge to mess with them. It annoyed Lisbon to no end.

All in all, though, he was ridiculously happy.

He found himself thinking that they should have done this years ago, but he knew it would have been different. _He_ had been different. Also, she had technically been the boss, and there were no such barriers here.

Texas had been the best thing that had ever happened to them.

One Sunday afternoon, he was rummaging around her kitchen, putting the finishing touches on a roast before sticking it in the oven. There were some things that were difficult to do in a trailer, and cooking elaborate meals was one of them.

Lisbon was curled up in the recliner with a book. Or at least, she had been.

When he peeked out into the living room, she was sound asleep, the paperback dangling from her limp fingers. Smiling, he snagged a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her, pausing to kiss her cheek softy as he pulled it up to her shoulders.

His grin faded. Her skin was too hot.

Maybe it was nothing, but he had a suspicion she was coming down with something.

An hour later, his suspicions were confirmed when she woke up with a groan.

"Hi," he said cheerfully. "How're you feeling?"

She grimaced, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

"Yeah, I figured that." He shut his own book then stood over here, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Definitely hot," he told her, "and I mean it in a decidedly non-sexual manner, though that's certainly true, too."

He didn't even get a smile.

Lisbon made a valiant attempt to eat dinner, but he thought she just moved all of her food from one side of her plate to the other. He made sure she at least drank a full glass of water, though she didn't look like she found that particularly appealing either.

She retreated to the bathroom for a shower after her pitiful excuse of a meal was over, and he started stacking plates to throw in the dishwasher. The sound of running water was suddenly interrupted by the sound of retching, and he wiped his hands on a towel as he half-jogged out of the room towards her.

He swept her hair out of the way, grabbing an elastic band from the vanity and tying it inexpertly back. She was shaking, eyes squeezed shut, breathing rapidly. In a moment, she heaved again, muscles drawn taut.

When it was over, she leaned back heavily into his arms. He slowly ran his hands over her clammy skin, heart contracting when he saw her expression of utter misery.

"Let's get you into bed, hm?" he murmured, and she bowed her head onto his shoulder.

"Can't I just sleep here?" she asked, voice muffled by his shirt.

"I'm afraid not," he told her, carefully helping her stand. "I'd feel obligated to stay here with you, and I'm really too old to be sleeping on tile floors."

Her lips twitched, and he felt a little less worried.

She brushed her teeth slowly, splashed some cold water on her face.

As she changed into sweat pants and one of his white t-shirts (one of her recent habits, and one he loved), he raided the medicine cabinet, finally managing to find cold medication.

"Mmm, delicious," she said, making a face as he handed her a glass of water. "This sure as hell doesn't taste like grapes."

He chuckled, kissed her forehead.

She turned into his arms as soon as he slid beneath the covers, still trembling. "Cold?" he asked.

"Freezing," she replied, burrowing closer.

It was hard to believe, as he felt like he was holding a space heater, but that was the nature of fevers. He would probably wake up in a delightful pool of sweat. However, he wouldn't trade places with anyone. This was all part of the deal.

After a fitful night, he informed her she was absolutely not going to work. She looked like she was going to protest, but the argument was avoided by her summarily sprinting to the bathroom and throwing up again.

When he had her safely tucked in on the couch, surrounded by bottles of water, tissues, and a trash can, he handed her the remote control.

"Take it easy, woman," he said, but affectionately. "Don't kill yourself off."

She muttered something indistinctly, and he blew a kiss as he opened the front door. "I'll call you later," he told her. "Love you."

"Love you, too," she said disconsolately.

He would never tell her, but she was adorable when she was sick.

The morning went rather slowly without her, and he was considering doing some actual work to pass the time when Cho appeared in front of him.

They had never explained their relationship to Cho, not really. He had just figured out they were together and left it at that. Jane had to admit that it was nice to not hide it from everyone, especially someone that he had been (was still?) friends with.

"Where's Lisbon?" the other man asked without preamble.

"Sick," he replied. "The flu, I think. It hit her yesterday afternoon and knocked her flat on her ass."

The vaguest hint of concern was in Cho's eyes, but for him, it was the equivalent of wringing his hands in worry. "Has she seen a doctor?"

"Not yet," Jane said. "If she's still this bad tomorrow, though, it would probably be a good idea. Of course," he added, "I'll probably have to put her in the trunk to get her there, so let's hope she stops throwing up by then."

Cho nodded. There was a brief pause. Then, "You sure you didn't knock her up?"

He stared. The words were meant in jest, he thought. "Yeah," he said, the word coming out a little funny. It wasn't something that had crossed his mind before.

When Cho left, he lost himself in thought, sitting almost completely still. She couldn't be pregnant, right? Fever wasn't a symptom of pregnancy, he knew that.

But it didn't stop his train of thought.

What if she was? Not now, even, but what if she would be?

They had never discussed it. Not just that, too, but they had never talked about anything resembling a future. He was happy with the way things were, and he thought she was, too, but eventually, something would need to change. They would officially move in together, or he would put a ring on her finger, or _whatever,_ but things wouldn't go on like this forever.

His mind kept returning to the issue of children, however.

He had never considered having another child, at least not in a concrete manner. There hadn't seemed to be any point. He wasn't with anyone, and besides, he was still too wrapped up in his grief over Charlotte.

Life had altered considerably since then.

But did he want this? Did he have the energy to chase a toddler around? To brave sleepless nights and days of tantrums and endless laundry and bottle washings?

Was he willing to have his heart exist somewhere outside of his body again?

When his arms felt suddenly empty, he knew that he was.

There was so much good to outweigh the bad. So many things that made the whole endeavor worthwhile. Even now, looking back on the mess that had been his life, Charlotte was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

And he wanted it again.

He sucked in a deep breath, world titled on its axis.

"Goddamnit, Cho," he muttered. "This is all your fault."

The afternoon dragged on, and he snuck out early. It had been a very strange day.

Lisbon was asleep on the couch when he unlocked the door, cheeks still too pink, hair falling half over her face.

As quietly as he could, he dug through the cupboards until he found chicken noodle soup. He tried to make this from scratch once, but she had admitted she would honestly rather have the stuff from a can. She said it reminded her of her childhood, and he had given in with a smile.

There was a rustling of blankets from the living room, and after a moment, she appeared in the doorway, eyes half-closed.

"Hi," she murmured softly.

"Hey," he said back, bending to kiss her. She slid her arms around his waist, and he made a mental note to remember this moment as he swayed them in an impromptu dance. There were so many little things needed to be cherished, seemingly unimportant events that made up a lifetime.

"Feeling better?" he asked, nose buried in her hair.

"Feeling like I might live," she said, sounding a little unconvinced of that.

"Glad to hear it," he laughed. "I've gotten rather attached to you."

She made a credible attempt to eat, something that he was grateful for, and managed to keep it down.

Later, Lisbon sprawled on the couch again, her head cushioned by a pillow on his lap.

He kept trying to figure out a way to bring up what was on his mind, had been on his mind all day, but the words kept dying in his throat. It all sounded stupid and ridiculous and this was definitely not the right time to bring it up anyway so he should just let it go.

"Cho asked me if you were pregnant today," he said abruptly, then swore at himself. Good job with the whole letting-it-go thing.

She tensed, turning so he could see her face. "And you told him no, right?" One eyebrow arched.

"Obviously." He waited a beat. "You're not, are you?"

She shook her head slowly, clearly treading very cautiously. "No."

He tried to dispel his irrational disappointment.

Lisbon took a deep breath. "Would it be a bad thing if I was?"

Well, shit. Apparently they _were_ going to talk about it tonight.

"No," he told her. "It would most definitely not be a bad thing."

She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. "Um," she began uncertainly, "I just didn't know if you would want..." She trailed off.

"I didn't know either," he admitted. "At least not until I had to think about it."

There were a few seconds of silence. "And?" she asked. "Do you?"

There was something in her eyes, something like hope and trepidation all mixed together. "Yes," he said quietly. "I think I do. Not right now," he added on hastily, "but someday."

She smiled, seemingly unable to stop herself, and his heart gave a funny beat. "Good," she said. "I do, too."

And now he was the one unable to stop grinning.

"So when you said _someday_," she toyed with one of his hands, looking shyly down, "what did you have in mind?"

He blinked rapidly. "Uh, honestly, I don't know. I'm not getting any younger, but I'm definitely happy with life as it is right now."

Lisbon nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. How about this?" She met his eyes, and hers were sparkling. "We put a pin in this conversation for now, with the promise to come back and revisit it at some point in the not terribly distant future. Until then, we aren't trying to...create any drastic life changes." She stumbled a little over the words.

"And if we accidentally do?" he asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Then that's okay, too," she said.

Abruptly, he kissed her, and she laughed.

"Any other significant and life-altering conversations you feel like having tonight?" she wanted to know.

"I think that's it," he said, "but it's still early."

As he walked down the hall that night, he paused to stare into the guest bedroom. He caught himself unconsciously mentally transforming it into a nursery. It was way too soon, he knew that, but that was the thing about discussing babies.

They had a way of sticking with you.

He wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Around three in the morning, he woke out of a nonsensical dream, instinctively rolling towards Lisbon. She was turned in his direction, wide awake.

"I can't stop thinking about it," she whispered, and he had to smile.

"I know." He touched her face. Her fever was still there, he could feel it, but it had diminished.

She nodded. "I mean, it's crazy, right? We've only been together for a few months." There was an edge of hysteria to her voice.

"Technically, but you and I know we're not exactly a typical couple." They had been through so, so much already in their lives, and done it together, though not romantically involved. It changed the nature of their relationship, gave them the ease of couples that had been together for decades.

"So you don't think it's insane?" The look on her face, like she so desperately needed reassurance, had him pulling her into his arms in a heartbeat.

"It's most assuredly insane, my dear. Having a baby is one of the craziest things anyone can ever do. But it's the good kind of crazy, I promise." The very best kind, in fact.

"And it's not like we're trying right now," she went on, sounding like she was trying to convince herself of that.

"Nope," he agreed easily. "We put that on the back burner, remember? We'll come back to it in the future."

"Absolutely," she said. Then, "Not too far in the future, right?"

He was trying to not grin and failing. "Whenever you want to bring it up again, Lisbon, I'll be here."

"Oh, don't tell me that," she said instantly, sounding worried. "Don't you dare leave it up to me. I might do something stupid, like have a moment of insanity and decide I want a baby, like, tomorrow."

He laughed out loud, and she swatted his chest. "And if you do," he told her, "we'll be just fine. We'll be great, in fact."

She propped herself up so she could look down at him. "I mean it, Jane," she said earnestly. "This is just all hormones and stuff talking right now. I waited a very long time to have you, and I want some more time with _just_ you."

He met her solemn eyes. "Okay," he whispered. "Not now, but not all that far from now. We're agreed."

She nodded, then laid back down, curling into his side. Eventually she fell asleep, her head still on his chest.

He stared at the ceiling, one arm folded behind his head, mind running wildly away.

On second thought, maybe he owed Cho a massive thank you.

There wasn't much sleep to be had the rest of the night, but the look on Cho's face when the enormous fruit basket was delivered that afternoon more than made up for it.

"What the hell is this for?" he demanded, card in one hand.

Jane smiled. "I'll tell you someday."

In the not so distant future, he hoped.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN**: I wasn't going to go there...but I think we might be going there. Yes, we're definitely going there. This isn't something I've done before, and I am sort of (read: massively) unsure about it, so forgive me if I stumble a little.

And now I'll stop being vague and let you read the actual chapter. :)

**Somewhere Beyond**

**Chapter Five**

For their six month anniversary, one which she had noted in her head but hadn't said anything about, Jane bought her diamond stud earrings.

They were a cliche gift, true enough, but she loved them inordinately. It had been forever since she'd had an actual boyfriend, let alone one who made a big deal out of anniversaries of any kind.

Then again, Jane was a romantic at heart. He proved it often enough - flowers suddenly appearing on her kitchen table, dinners by candlelight, and on one notable occasion, driving them out to the middle of nowhere to see the stars.

Not that they had done much looking at the sky once they got there, but that was another matter entirely.

"Have I mentioned I love them?" she asked, pushing her hair behind her ears and turning in the mirror so the bathroom light would catch on the diamonds she was admiring.

Jane's reflection smiled at her, clearly pleased by her reaction, hands resting on her hips. "Once or twice, but feel free to keep telling me."

She leaned back into him, one arm reaching up around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

"I admit," he said, "this was definitely the reaction I was hoping for."

His lips found her neck, and as he adjusted his hold on her, his hand pressed against her lower abdomen. It was meaningless for him, or so she thought, but it made her think.

They hadn't brought up The Baby Conversation since that first night, but it certainly didn't mean she hadn't been thinking about it.

Two days after they had made their tentative plans, she had given into a nearly irresistible urge and bought a set of footed baby pajamas printed with yellow ducks. They had just been so tiny and precious that she had felt herself melt.

However, by the time she had made it home, she was ashamed of her moment of weakness and had stuffed the outfit into the very back of the closet in the guest room.

The guest room that would make a perfect nursery.

She had to keep shaking off thoughts like that. They would only get her into trouble.

Like she'd told Jane, she had been waiting a ridiculously long time to be with him, and selfishly, she wasn't willing to share him just yet. Or so she kept repeating to herself.

Her cell phone ringing snapped her out of both her reverie and the soft haze of pleasure Jane's mouth was creating and she swore as she dug it out of her pocket. His teeth clicked against her new earring and she had to pause for a moment before answering the call.

Naturally, it was work, and she sighed as she hung up.

"Pack your stuff," she told him. "We're leaving."

Jane groaned, half in want and half in exasperation. "The FBI has wonderful timing, don't they?" He shuffled off to toss some things in a bag.

She stood in the doorway of her closet, mentally making a list of things she needed to grab. It was with a small shock of surprise that she noticed Jane's clothes were occupying a full quarter of the space.

It was a decent sized closet, and Jane had a meager wardrobe, which meant that almost all of his things were here.

Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember the last time they had spent the night at his trailer. Last week? The week before? Longer? In the beginning, they had split their time fairly evenly, but now it seemed like they were always here.

With new eyes, she looked around the rest of the house. He had books on the shelves in the living room, laundry in the hampers, keys on the hook by the front door.

"Jane?" she asked, purposely not thinking about the question she was going to ask.

"Hm?" he said, pulling his suit jacket on.

"Do you live here?" It was a strange way to say it, she thought, but the words had sort of fallen out.

He stopped, looked her full in the face. He seemed almost...shy? "Well, I'm not getting mail delivered yet," he replied, "so I suppose I don't officially live here."

Again, she didn't think. "Do you want to?"

His smile literally took her breath away. "Yes," he said simply, and that was it.

"Okay," she whispered, unable to stop herself from matching his grin.

"Well," he laughed, "now that that's settled..." He paused long enough to cross the room and kiss her. "Let's be off, shall we? The sooner we get this case solved, the sooner we can come back home."

The idea that_ home_ now meant the same place for both of them was so shockingly appealing that she caught herself smiling at random moments over the next few days as they invaded the city of Boston.

It was a high profile case, as per their usual. It didn't stop Jane from treating everyone involved with his typical irreverence, something that still drove Abbott and Fischer crazy, though they had gotten a little better at hiding it.

They were realizing, like she had done all those years ago, that Jane was a priceless asset, and that it was simply easier to let him solve the case, even if they did have to issue lots of apologies to important people.

The best part of it was that she was no longer responsible for what he did. Professionally, Jane was not her problem anymore.

He cracked the case in three days, and then they were all on a plane back to Texas.

Jane disappeared for a few hours after they landed, and she rattled around her (their?) house, doing all the little domestic tasks that had been neglected while she was gone - dusting, vacuuming, laundry.

Around seven, she heard the sound of a car door slamming, and smiled.

The front door opened, and Jane appeared, carrying a large cardboard box. "Honey, I'm home," he quipped, smirking.

"Whatcha got there?" she asked, standing and stretching.

He shrugged. "The rest of my stuff from the trailer. There's a few more boxes in the car."

A new thought occurred to her. "So what are you going to do with it now? The trailer, I mean."

Again, he shrugged. "Hadn't thought about it much. Maybe I'll keep it in case you throw me out." He winked, and she smacked his arm.

Jane spent the rest of the night officially moving in. It basically consisted of the rest of his books going on the shelves and his ceramic rooster finding a home in the kitchen.

There were a few boxes that he didn't open, just hauled down to the basement. "Stuff from California, mainly," he told her, and she wondered if that meant Malibu.

Later, she watched him inexpertly use her laptop to fill out a change of address form, still using his index fingers to type. "Ta da," he told her when he was through. "I can't wait to start getting pre-approved credit card offers here."

As she showered that night, she could hear him still shuffling around the house, putting things here and there. He didn't have that much, and had thus far seemed perfectly content to keep most things like she had them.

"Uh, Lisbon?" he asked, and she heard the faint creak of the bathroom door as he opened it.

"Yeah?" She rinsed the shampoo from her hair.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" His voice was strange, a little hoarse, almost cautious.

"I don't think so," she said slowly.

There was a pause. "Are you sure?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded.

Jane pulled the shower curtain back, and she saw he was holding the duck-print baby pajamas. He must've come across them when he was putting stuff away, she thought absently.

"Oh," she said stupidly.

"Yes, _oh_," he repeated, eyebrows raised. His expression was indecipherable.

"I bought those on a whim, months ago," she hurriedly said. "I'm not pregnant. I was just thinking about...what we'd talked about...and I saw them at the store and I just..." She trailed off, aware she was talking far too fast. "I'm not pregnant," she reiterated.

Was that disappointment she saw in his face?

Her heart gave a funny beat.

"Okay," he said. "Just...just checking."

He closed the shower curtain again, and she squeezed her eyes shut, thinking rapidly, weighing pros and cons.

The cons were easy - they had literally just moved in together, six months as a couple wasn't that long, she wanted to prove herself to the FBI, they weren't even married.

Unfortunately, the pros were easy, too. She wasn't getting any younger. They would already be taking a risk, so it seemed foolish to wait much longer.

And, well, she wanted a baby. Then she clarified it - she wanted a baby with _Jane_.

She finished her shower in a hurry, quickly scrubbing a towel through her wet hair and pulling on the first things she found that passed for pajamas.

Jane was in the kitchen, rearranging cupboards to make room for the things he'd brought with him.

"Hi," she said, and her voice was anxious.

"Hi." He gestured at the cabinet just above him. "We have a lot of coffee cups."

She took a deep, bracing breath. "You know that conversation we put a pin in?"

He was trying to read her face, she knew that. "Yes." The word was drawn out.

Nervously, she wet her lips. "Um, I was thinking that maybe it was time to come back to it."

His smile was soft. "I told you that whenever you were ready, I would be here. Are you ready?" There was nothing but tenderness in his eyes.

Unexpectedly, she felt choked up. "I think so," she told him, "but it's terrifying."

He stepped forward, arms going around her waist. "Yup."

And that was what she needed - not platitudes or fancy words to take away her trepidations. Jane was acknowledging that what she felt was valid, understandable. Normal. She leaned into him, grateful for the steady beat of his heart in her ear.

There was a second where she wondered how she'd gotten here. She was Teresa Lisbon - good cop, but married to her job. No time for a simple boyfriend, let a long a long-term relationship or, God forbid, a child.

But now...she was standing in the kitchen of a home she now shared with someone, discussing having a baby.

Along the way, something had changed, and without question, she knew it was Jane. When he'd first been hired by the CBI, she knew life was going to be different. She just hadn't expected it to be _this_ different.

She let out a breath against his chest. "So...how do we do this?"

He snorted. "Do you need me to draw you a picture?"

"No, idiot. I'm perfectly aware of how _that_ works." She felt her cheeks color. "I mean, when...it happens, what are we telling people?"

He pulled back to look at her. "Well, we can always say we had a drunken one-night stand." There was amusement in his voice. "Really, Lisbon, it won't be a big deal. I checked into it. I'm technically a consult. You're the agent, so we can get around the fraternization rules."

She imagined telling people at work that she was pregnant with Patrick Jane's child. The scenarios her mind created were so awful she needed to stop.

"Not a big deal," she repeated. "Right."

Jane tipped her chin up. "This isn't about anyone at work," he said quietly. "It's just about us. Everything else is background noise."

She nodded. "Sorry. I know that, it's just..." She shrugged, hoping Jane would understand what she meant.

"Teresa," he almost whispered. "Stop thinking about that. Think about those duck pajamas, and how much you want to see our baby sleeping in them."

So she did. And when her heart swelled, she knew he was right. About everything.

Then she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Alright," she said, voice low. "When do we get started?"

He pretended to look thoughtful. "Hm. I think I can squeeze you into my schedule in the early part of next week, but I'd have to do some check-"

His words were abruptly cut off as she kissed him, and he stumbled backwards into the countertop. The movement jarred the ceramic rooster, knocking it from its new perch.

Jane managed to grab it at the last second. "Whew," he said. "That was almost a disaster." He set it down carefully, then turned back to her. He was silent for a second, then scooped her up into his arms. "Time to go somewhere where there's little chance of damaging decorative poultry."

She laughed all the way to the bedroom.

Four weeks later, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror looking nervously at the object held in her hand.

It was crazy to admit, but she'd never taken a pregnancy test before. She had followed the instructions to the letter and was now nervously watching the small clock on the wall.

Three minutes.

A short amount of time normally. Hell, it took three minutes for coffee to brew. But now three small, inconsequential minutes could change her life.

She refused to look at the white stick.

Two minutes.

She had been thinking of ways to tell Jane. Would she surprise him? Or just come out and say it? It seemed like such a momentous occasion. What was the right thing to do?

Tick tock.

One minute.

She didn't want to find out the gender, she'd decided. Jane was old fashioned enough that she was sure he'd go along with it. He liked surprises.

Time.

With a deep, shaking breath, she looked down.

Waited another minute, just to be absolutely certain. The result stayed the same.

It was negative.

A strange, hollow feeling started to choke her. But she had been sure...

And so she did what every woman did in her situation - she took another test.

Negative.

Before she knew it, she was crying. And wasn't that the stupidest thing? She hadn't lost a child; there had just never been one to start with. Most people didn't get pregnant the first month they tried, and she was even older than most. It didn't mean she couldn't have a baby.

Rationally, she knew all of this.

It didn't help.

The bathroom door opened. Jane looked alarmed for a second, then spotted the plastic applicator on the vanity. His eyes focused on it long enough to read the result, and then she was in his arms.

He didn't speak, just let her rest her weight on him, understanding her disappointment, her sorrow. After all, it would have been his baby, too.

She fell asleep on the couch that night, curled into Jane's side as they watched a mindless sitcom. She didn't think they'd even remembered to eat.

He carried her to bed, even tucking her in.

"I love you," he whispered. He had told her that a thousand times, but never in quite that way. Like he was reminding her. Like he knew how awful tonight had been, but was hoping the fact that he loved her would make it a little bit easier.

That was worth something.

She squeezed his fingers. "Love you, too."

"It'll be better in the morning," he promised.

And though she couldn't see how, she nodded.

But the sun rose early, drenching the bedroom with new light, another chance.

He was right. Again.

Thank God for that.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **So the other night, my husband put our baby in her pajamas. They were definitely ducky print. I was very amused by this.

Anywho. Hope you like fluff.

**Somewhere Beyond**

**Chapter Six**

He was beginning to think that the ducky pajamas had been a mistake. Not that there was something intrinsically wrong with them, though he supposed if Lisbon had never gotten them, he maybe wouldn't be feeling this way now. No, his mistake had been telling Lisbon to picture their child in them.

Because, of course, he had done the same.

It was an image that refused to leave him, a round-cheeked baby cooing happily, chubby fingers wrapped around his.

He never brought it up to Lisbon, not wanting to place any more burdens on her, but he thought of it often.

She was having a difficult time. Oh, she was holding herself together, but he knew there was sadness lurking just below the surface. He could see it every time he looked at her.

No one else (well, possibly Cho) would notice the difference. Her work was still exemplary, and she had earned the respect and admiration of those around her. It didn't matter that people had once thought she was just his…mistress or girlfriend. Lisbon had proven that she was here because she deserved to be.

Professionally, she was unflappable. Personally…it was an entirely different story.

It was irrational. The vast majority of the time, it took more than one month to conceive a child anyway. In fact, people were usually surprised if it happened right away. Lisbon knew these things as well as he did, but when the second month came and went, it started to get harder to be logical.

It was becoming heart-breaking. As was his usual, he kept an eye on Lisbon for most of every day. Every so often, he would catch her with her hand pressed against her stomach, and he knew she was doing one of three things: praying, wondering, or mourning.

This was no way to live, and they needed to work themselves out of this mindset. It was difficult to do, however, since it seemed there were small children bombarding them everywhere they went. Babies crying at restaurants, huge displays of receiving blankets at department store entrances, a giggling toddler chasing butterflies in the park, watchful parents nearby.

Lisbon spent her nights curled up with her laptop instead of him, combing message boards and websites, looking up methods of conception that worked for others. It made his heart hurt, seeing her like this, and he blamed himself entirely.

If he had never been stupid enough to bring this conversation up, they would still be blissfully happy, sending each other suggestive text messages at work and making out like teenagers in the kitchen at home.

He missed those days, missed them even more as the days went on. They had waited so long for this; their honeymoon had ended far too soon.

One Wednesday afternoon, he left work early, an idea half formed in his head. Lisbon had watched him walk out the door curiously, but he had simply winked at her by way of explanation. She looked immediately suspicious, and he'd hidden his smile. That was definitely the old Lisbon.

When she arrived home, maybe an hour after him, he was already simmering spaghetti sauce, wondering if he needed more oregano in the concoction.

"Hey," she said, tossing her bag and keys on the table.

"Come here and taste this," he replied by way of greeting, holding up the wooden spoon.

She took it from him, carefully taking a sip. "Mmm," she told him. "It's good."

"Of course it is," he said. "But is it missing anything?"

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe a dash of arrogance?" she suggested, and he playfully smacked her with the towel he'd had over his shoulder.

"Careful, woman. Don't you know to never insult the person making you dinner?" He made a face at her as she walked out of the room.

When she returned, clad in yoga pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, fingers locking against his stomach, cheek pressed against his back.

He pulled one of her hands up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles as he stirred. "How was the rest of your day?"

He felt her shrug. "Fine," she said neutrally. "It's been a pretty quiet week."

"I'm getting bored," he told her. "I mean, I know I'm supposed to say that being bored is a good thing, since it means no one of national importance is dead or whatever, but I can only spend so many hours watching everyone in the bullpen do paperwork before my eyes start to cross."

"Maybe you need a hobby," she suggested, going to the refrigerator and pulling out a half-empty bottle of wine.

"Like what?" he demanded, adding just a pinch of sweet basil to the sauce pan. "Knitting or crossword puzzles?"

"Hey, whatever floats your boat." She handed him a wine glass. Determined to look on the bright side tonight, he thought that since she wasn't pregnant, she at least didn't have to give up drinking. It was a stupid trade-off, but it was still something.

They chatted in the kitchen for the next forty minutes or so, keeping the conversation light. He wasn't in the mood to talk about babies, and he didn't want her going down that road either.

In fact, he wanted no mention of children tonight. They were supposed to be madly in love, and they were going to act like it.

He made double entendres all through their dinner, mentally keeping track of how many times he made her blush, and by the time they had finished, her legs were wrapped around his under the table.

The dishes were haphazardly tossed in the sink, and he waited impatiently as she finished her drink. As soon as he heard the clink of the glass being set on the table, he pulled her to her feet, pressing her against the nearest wall.

Her eyes sparkled up at him, and he kissed her soundly, her arms going around his neck. Her mouth was hot, wet silk, and he groaned as she pressed herself against him.

In a second, he hoisted her up, knocking empty packages of spaghetti noodles and mozzarella cheese out of the way, before setting her on the countertop.

She giggled, a rare sound, and he knotted his fingers in the hem of her t-shirt, tugging it up until her bra was exposed.

He kissed her once more, then let his lips trail down her neck, over the top of her chest, nosing aside one lace-covered cup until he found what he was after.

Her breathing was fast, hands digging into his shoulders. "What are you doing?" she half-whispered, words sounding distracted.

"Making out with you in our kitchen," he replied, as though that should have been obvious.

Check.

Eventually, she tugged his lips back to hers, and he let her down from her perch. He had no idea where her shirt was, nor did he care.

She grabbed his hand, pulling him down the hallway to their bedroom, but as soon as they crossed the threshold, he took control again.

They were not trying to have a baby tonight.

He made love to her in slow degrees, refusing to give into her pleas and occasional sobs. She needed this, too, needed the mindless pleasure, the wonderful torture, the moments of release with nothing attached to them.

It wasn't as though the sex had ever been bad between them, rather the opposite, actually, but lately the idea of pregnancy had been hovering over them, sort of robbing the act of some of the passion it used to possess, especially since the first negative test.

But he _was not_ thinking about that right now.

In fact, he wasn't thinking about much beyond how to make her moan his name, and he made damn sure she wasn't thinking about a thing.

He sent her over the edge three times before he joined her, muscles still trembling as he lay in her arms.

"Oh, God," she whispered, her heart still pounding against his ear. "Where did _that_ come from?"

Utterly spent, he sort of flopped his hand against her side in a terrible approximation of a shrug. "Um. Happy Wednesday?"

She chuckled, exhaustion evident in her tone. "Happy Wednesday indeed."

They were definitely running late the next morning, partly from having slept so soundly the night before, and partly because Lisbon insisted on waking him up with a very enthusiastic good morning. He would gladly incur Abbott's wrath for that.

"Get out of here," she told him, rushing around the house looking for God only knew what. "I have, like, three things left to do and then I'm leaving. I'll see you in a half hour."

But her expression was light, happy. Last night had done what he'd intended it to do – relieve some of the pressure and sorrow they were both living under.

Cho gave him a knowing look as Jane passed him on the way to his couch, and he made a note to do something about the expression he was sure he was wearing. It was a male thing, he supposed, and it told everyone else in the office that he'd had one hell of a time the night before.

In fact, he was just reliving some of his favorite parts when his cell rang. It was Lisbon.

Well, that was odd.

"Hey," he said, "what's up? Flat tire?"

"Is this Patrick Jane?" an unfamiliar voice asked, and he felt his heart jump into his throat.

"It is," he said evenly.

"Mr. Jane, this is Officer Craig DeSoto, Austin PD."

The walls around him started to cave in at the corners.

"Agent Lisbon was involved in a collision about twenty minutes ago."

The part of his brain that was still working told him she had barely left the house.

"Is she okay?" he asked, and he didn't recognize his own voice. His entire life depended on the officer's next words.

"She was unresponsive when we arrived on scene," DeSoto said, and some wild, terrible pain started to rise up in his chest. Cho, alerted to the situation by his expression, was suddenly standing in front of him. The officer continued: "However, she regained consciousness as we were pulling her out of the vehicle. It looks like the impact just knocked her out."

Jane took a moment to breathe deeply, something he hadn't done since the start of the phone call. She was alive, he repeated in his head. Alive alive alivealivealive.

"Mr. Jane?" the officer asked, wondering at the silence.

"Yeah," he finally choked out. "I'm here."

"EMTs showed up just a few minutes ago, and they're taking Agent Lisbon to Memorial Hospital to get checked out. According to them, they don't think she sustained any life-threatening injuries. She requested that we call you."

In the background, he could hear the noise of traffic. There was the sound of doors slamming, and he wondered if that was the ambulance.

"Memorial Hospital," he repeated. "Okay. Thank you."

He slowly lowered the phone from his ear, then stood abruptly.

"What the hell happened?" Cho demanded, looking as worried as Jane had ever seen him.

Quickly, he recounted the story, half-running to the elevator. Cho kept pace with him.

"Thank God she's okay," he said as Jane impatiently pressed the elevator button with one shaking finger.

"Thank someone," he muttered.

There was a _ding_, and they both stepped back as the doors opened.

"I'll tell Fischer," Cho volunteered. "Keep me posted."

Jane nodded. "Will do. And thank you." He tried to inject sincerity into his voice. He really did appreciate the other man, but he was just so focused on Lisbon at the moment.

Although he made it to the hospital safely, he found he couldn't remember the drive there.

A bored looking woman at reception gave him directions, and he practically ran over the shiny, sterile tile to the stairs. They would be faster than the elevator in a place like this.

The inpatient unit on the fourth floor looked just about like every other hospital he had ever seen. The nurse at the desk told him where to go, taking in his obvious terrified expression with kind eyes. "Room 4091," she said. "The doctor just left, so she should be all yours."

He remembered to smile and say thank you before turning down the hallway.

He didn't knock, just pushed the door open.

And there she was, already in a hospital gown, hair splayed out behind her head as she lay on the narrow bed. There was an IV in the back of her left hand.

But she smiled at him. "Hi," she whispered, and he felt his knees nearly collapse.

Gingerly, he perched on the edge of the mattress, carefully leaning down and wrapping his arms around her. "You scared the shit out of me," he told her neck, and he knew he was still shaking.

"I scared the shit out of me, too," she admitted.

"What the hell happened?" he wanted to know, sitting up again and taking both of her hands.

She shrugged. "It was my fault, I think. I was distracted, and I guess I sort of…crossed the center line. The other guy walked away without a scratch."

"And what about you?"

Again, she shrugged, the movement looking like it was a little painful for her. "I'll be fine. A couple of bruises, a slight concussion. Nothing serious."

Her casual tone angered him. "Nothing serious, my ass. Do you have any idea how terrified I was?"

"Jane, I'm sorry you were scared. Believe me, I was too, but it's okay now. It's more than okay." Her eyes were wide, entreating.

"No, it's certainly not okay." His words were rushed. "Teresa, I am not prepared to lose you. You are…my entire world, and if something happened to you, I wouldn't make it."

She rested her hand against his cheek. "I'm sorry," she said again, and he suddenly was mad at himself for making her feel like she needed to apologize. She was the one that could have been killed. "Like I said, I was distracted." She met his eyes. "I stayed behind at home to take another pregnancy test. That's why I left when I did. I mean, I should have been on the interstate at the time I crashed. Not a lot of head-on collisions there."

He sucked in a breath. "This is enough," he said, cutting her off before she could continue. "I can't take this. Teresa, we need to talk about this baby thing."

She nodded. "That we do."

Distractedly, he touched his forehead. "Listen to me. If we have a baby, it's wonderful. I'd be overjoyed. But if we don't, then I want you to know that this, _us_, is enough. No, not enough. It's more than enough. Regardless of whether or not we have a child, my life is complete right now with just you."

He saw tears in her eyes. "I hate the way things are right now," he whispered. "I hate that you're so sad. I hate that we're not acting like _us_ anymore."

"Me, too," she replied, linking their fingers. "And I promise it will change."

He kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "I love you so very much," he told her.

She smiled again. "I love you, too. But you didn't let me finish talking."

His eyebrows came together. "What?"

"I told you I was late getting out the door because I was taking a pregnancy test. And that I was distracted. " She locked her gaze on him, and there was something in her eyes that took his breath away. "But it was a good distraction."

It took him a second, but he got there.

"Are you…?" he breathed.

She nodded.

And then he was terrified all over again. "But the crash-"

Lisbon put a hand on his arm. "It's okay. Ultrasound confirmed a heartbeat after I got here. The doctor says it's pretty rare for an outside force to hurt a baby this early in pregnancy."

His mind was reeling. "How far…" he trailed off, wet his lips. "How far along are you?"

"Six weeks," she said. "I asked the doctor, and she said it's possible I was going by the wrong dates or whatever when I was figuring out when I should take my tests."

He was in a stunned silence.

"Here," she said, reaching for the rolling tray table next to her.

He took what she was holding out. It was a strip of ultrasound pictures. The word "baby" was clearly labeled on the grainy image. That was good, because he didn't see much of anything.

"Jane," Lisbon said, slowly, sounding uncertain for the first time. "Say something. Please."

He realized he hadn't spoken in some time.

So he leaned down and kissed her. Hard. Kissed her until he couldn't because he was smiling too widely.

Then he gently put one hand on her stomach. "Hi, baby," he said, voice a little shaky. "I'm very happy you're going to be joining us, but I'd really like it if the manner in which I found out about you is the most exciting part of this pregnancy."

Lisbon laughed. "You know what the most exciting part is going to be?"

He was silent, waiting.

"When you have to tell Abbott. Oh, yes," she hurried on, "_you_ have to tell him. I'm excused from doing anything ridiculously stressful."

"Honestly, woman. You've know about this baby for what, three hours, and you're already playing the pregnancy card to get out of things you don't want to do." His words were somewhat ruined by the fact that he was still grinning.

She was utterly unabashed. "Get used to it."

"I will," he said, leaning down to kiss her again. "Gladly."

**AN: Yup. Looks like we're going there. **


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** Okay, confession time: I'm really not sure about this chapter. I wrote it over the course of three days, not my normal style at all, and I'm worried it might be a little…disjointed? Choppy? I hope it reads alright, but apologies if this feels a bit out of whack.

**Somewhere Beyond**

**Chapter Seven**

As it turned out, the whole 'glamour of pregnancy' wore off the first time she discovered that morning sickness could, in fact, last all day. And the next day. And the day after that.

To put a fine point on it, she was miserable for a great deal of the time. She tried to keep it in perspective – from what she understood, sometimes being sick was an indicator of a healthy baby. If that was true, their kid was freaking Superman.

Every so often, she would get a few hours' respite from the nausea and dizziness. If she was at work when it happened, she used the time to get caught up on all the paperwork she had been unable to focus on. She needed to stay at the top of her game for as long as she could, especially since she knew her time in the field was going to come to an abrupt end.

Any day now, Abbott was going to give the order to keep her at her desk until she returned from maternity leave. It wasn't a smart move to have a pregnant woman busting down doors and pointing guns at people.

The day Jane told him their news, she was pretty sure a vein nearly burst in his temple. She had been covertly watching from the bullpen, Jane sitting casually in the chair in front of Abbott's desk. Although she couldn't see his face, she could see the precise moment the words came out of his mouth, as Abbott looked as shocked as she had ever seen him.

After that, she stopped trying to spy. Instead, she bent diligently over her work, trying to pretend that all was totally normal and Jane _wasn't_ telling their supervising agent that he'd gotten her pregnant.

Another five minutes passed. Then ten. Entirely too long for Jane to still be in that office.

Cho, apparently reading her face, came wandering over. "Is everything okay?" he asked bluntly. "You look sort of keyed up. What'd Jane do now?"

"That's a hell of a question," she muttered to herself. "Uh," she began, wondering how to phrase this. "Don't, uh, I don't know, freak out or anything, but Jane's in there telling Abbott that we're expecting."

There were several moments of silence as Cho processed her words. "Expecting." He blinked. "As in, expecting a baby?"

She nodded, feeling distinctly unsure of what his reaction as going to be.

"Did you…was this on purpose?"

She nodded again, nervously chewing on her lip.

"Does Jane know you did this on purpose?" he asked.

"Oh, for God's sake, Cho," she hissed, rolling her eyes. "No, I thought I'd just try to get pregnant without talking to him about it. It seemed like a good idea at the time." The sarcasm was so thick she thought it sound like her voice was rolling its eyes, too.

"Well, that'd be a hell of a surprise," he deadpanned. Then, "Congratulations. You'll do great. You both will," he added, nodding at Jane as he finally emerged, smiling, from Abbott's office. However, she noted it was the sort of smile he wore when he was amused, not the one he wore when he was simply happy.

"Agent Lisbon," came Abbott's deep voice. He stood in his doorway, expression unreadable. "I need a word."

She swallowed, standing on unreasonably shaky legs. She hadn't done anything wrong, she kept telling herself. Jane was a consultant – they were protected by the loophole in FBI policy.

As she crossed the room, she noticed Abbott's eyes dropped briefly to her still-flat stomach. She figured she should get used to that reaction.

Jane winked at her as they passed each other. "It's alright," he whispered.

Abbott shut the door behind her as she entered. "Sit," he said, gesturing to a chair, and his voice wasn't unfriendly.

He folded his hands neatly on his desk, looking like he was trying to find a good way to begin this conversation. Eventually, he settled for being straightforward. "Jane tells me you're pregnant. Is that true?" His expression was utterly even.

"Yes," she said, pleased that her tone was normal.

Abbott nodded. "Congratulations, Agent Lisbon. Now," he went on before she could reply, "Jane also goes on to tell me that he's the father. Is _that_ true?"

Slowly, she nodded. "Yes," she repeated.

This was so awkward she thought she might choke.

There was a pause as Abbott thought some more. "To say that I am surprised would be an understatement, Agent Lisbon."

Well, he wasn't the only one, but she said nothing.

"This puts me in an interesting position," he continued. "Technically, you're getting around the fraternization rules, which I'm sure you know. To be perfectly honest," he admitted, "even if you were breaking them, I would likely ignore it. You two do excellent work together."

She smiled. "And you like being in charge of the team that has the highest case closure record. Jane would refuse to work for you if I wasn't, so your hands would be tied." She was used to this game, having played it well for a decade.

To his credit, Abbott didn't deny it. "Fair enough, Lisbon. However, I can't ignore a pregnancy. As of this moment, you're on restricted duty. I'm not pulling you from the field just yet, but there will be a time when I do. No tackling suspects, no kicking in doors, nothing that could cause you or the baby injury, or I will personally tie you to your desk."

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, wondering if this was really his original reaction or if Jane had said something to…change his mind.

They looked at each other for a second or two.

Then, "How far along are you?" Abbott asked.

"Almost seven weeks," she replied without thinking.

"Ah," he nodded. "Heard the heartbeat yet?"

"No, but I've seen it on the ultrasound," she said, and Abbott nodded again.

"Unforgettable moment, isn't it?" he asked, and she suddenly realized there was a great deal she didn't know about this man.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Unforgettable."

After she left his office, she spent the rest of the day wondering who knew and who didn't. Fischer did, obviously, judging by the look the other woman threw her way. It wasn't condemning, just…curious, she decided.

Another thing she hadn't been prepared for was how tired she was. She had been a cop for most of her life – being short on sleep was nothing new or even particularly unusual. But this was a different sort of tired. No amount of sleep could dispel it, and her caffeine intake had been severely curtailed. Two cups of coffee a day and absolutely no more.

Considering she usually had two cups before she left the house, it was a pretty difficult restriction to deal with. The first thing she did when she got home every night, assuming she wasn't throwing up, was camp out on the couch and sleep for an hour or so.

They were all trade-offs she knew she was going to have to make, and had been alright with them when pregnancy had been some abstract idea. Reality was quite different, but even in her darker moments, she still knew that it was going to be worth it.

Whenever it got really bad, she remembered Jane carrying on a one-sided conversation with her stomach, or the way his hands seemed to always be resting against the place where their baby was growing, already protective of their child.

She'd had to stop him from buying a full set of furniture for the nursery the week after they'd found out she was expecting.

"Isn't it…sort of early?" she'd asked, peering over his shoulder at the oak crib. He'd insisted on dragging her to the furniture store, though she hadn't known why at the time. Well, she certainly knew now.

Jane had shrugged. "Maybe, but it's not like it's going to go bad or anything."

She'd frowned, and, like always, he read her expression expertly. "You don't want to get this. Tell me why."

It had been difficult to put into words, to try to put logic behind her worries. "It's just that, well, I feel like it'd be bad luck."

"Bad luck?" he'd echoed, looking incredulous.

"Yes," she admitted, a little sheepishly. "I just feel…if we get all of this stuff already, that something is bound to go wrong." And she knew she wouldn't be able to deal with a nursery full of furniture that would permanently be empty.

And though she knew Jane thought she was being silly, he saw enough real fear in her eyes that he bowed to her wishes.

However, when she was exactly twelve weeks and one day along, officially in the second trimester, the delivery truck showed up with a room load of handcrafted pieces.

All she could do was shake her head and smile. Jane would be Jane, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Like she'd predicted months before, he'd had no problem with waiting to discover the gender of the baby. Her first instinct was that they were having a boy, but she'd had no experience with these sorts of things.

Because of her age, they had decided to do all the genetic tests on the baby that were offered. Whatever the results were, it would have no bearing on their decision to keep the baby, but if there was something wrong, she felt as though she would like to know early, to give herself time to prepare.

It had been a very tense few days before the test results came in. She didn't get much sleep as they waited, spending her nights with one hand wrapped around Jane's and the other tangled in her rosary beads.

Jane was the one who found the letter. Despite his reassurances to her, she could see his tension in the lines of his face.

His eyes quickly scanned the piece of paper. She realized she was holding her breath.

When he looked up, he smiled blindingly. "Everything was completely normal. Absolutely nothing stands out as a cause of worry."

She felt her shoulders sag in relief, and Jane wrapped her in his arms. "Whew," she murmured into his chest. Tears pricked in her eyes, and she cursed her hormones for the thousandth time. Being a constant emotional wreck was something very new to her, and not something she was fond of.

Later that night, Jane curled against her, and she knew he was gearing himself up for a serious conversation. About what, she had no idea.

When he ran his thumb over the fingers on her left hand, the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

"Teresa," he said quietly, "I was thinking about marriage."

"Is that a proposal?" she replied, her voice too high.

"Do you want it to be?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. This was something she had given a lot of thought to, especially since she'd been pregnant. "No," she said, and she could feel his surprise.

"No?" he repeated. "I didn't expect that."

"Jane," she began, unsure of how to express herself, "it's not that I don't want to marry you." The words sound bizarre. "But I just don't want to under these circumstances."

He was quiet, thinking.

"I mean, the baby will have your last name, if that's what you're worried about."

"It wasn't," he said, hand pressed against her stomach instinctively. "But tell me more about these circumstances you're talking about."

She sighed. "Call me crazy, but I don't want everyone to think we're doing this just because of the baby. I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to ask, like this is some sort of duty."

"Yes, you're definitely crazy," he told her, lips brushing her hair. "Baby or not, this was a conversation we were going to have sooner or later. It took twelve years for us to be here. I wasn't going to wait another twelve to make sure you were mine for the rest of my life."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, she smiled. "I have news for you, Jane. I think we've already crossed that bridge. Do you really need for it to be official in the eyes of the law? That surprises me, given how you feel about rules in general."

She could hear the amusement in his voice when he spoke again. "Maybe I'm just old-fashioned. I have to admit that I'm a little shocked that you're taking this position, being a good little Catholic girl and all."

They both chuckled, but then he sobered. "Teresa, I want this to be official. What if you're in another car wreck? What if something happens at work? I don't have any rights where you're concerned. I'm just the boyfriend, after all. Having a baby doesn't change my status."

Now that was something she hadn't considered before. She supposed the reverse was true as well. If something were to happen to him, legally she had no rights. It was a disturbing idea.

Frowning now, she distractedly toyed with his fingers.

"Is there something else bothering you about the concept of marriage?" he asked, quiet now.

There was, but she felt silly voicing it. Like Jane had said, they'd waited a long time for this. What they had was precious, and she reminded herself daily to not take a moment of it for granted. Marriage was a concrete thing, and concrete was heavy. She felt like it would shatter the bubble they had been in. And, above all else, she was afraid that if this became mundane, that they would drift apart, that she would lose him.

And how strange was that? Jane wanted to take the steps that would legally bind them together, and she was still scared of losing him.

With halting words, she told him what was in her heart. She was unsure of what his reaction would be. Hurt, maybe, or anger.

Instead, he rolled her to her back, propping himself up so he could see her face. He was smiling, tenderly even.

"I suppose most of your fears are entirely my fault," he admitted. "I haven't done much to inspire fidelity since you've known me."

That wasn't true. He had been utterly loyal to Angela's memory, but she didn't want to bring that up now.

"But your worry about marriage itself…" He paused, thinking. "Marriage does get mundane, routine. You wake up together, you go to bed together, and, in our case, we spend all day together."

She nodded, agreeing, but at the same time afraid that he actually felt that way.

"Teresa," he said earnestly, "that's the best part. Having someone to share the details of your life with. Knowing that you never have to be alone if you don't want to be. Knowing that you have this to look forward to tomorrow and the day after that and every day after that one." There was a hint of sadness in his voice now, and it didn't take a genius to understand why. He hadn't gotten _every day after that one_. "I want that with you," he whispered. "In the eyes of man and God and whoever else cares to look."

A tear slid out of one eye, and she hastily brushed it away.

"You make a very compelling argument," she said, voice catching.

"Of course I do," he said. "Because I'm right."

He was, certainly, but the fear wasn't completely gone. Perhaps she was just emotionally keyed up. That seemed likely, given the circumstances.

"Can we talk about this more tomorrow?" she finally asked, drained. "I'm exhausted in about every way you can think of."

Although she knew it wasn't what he was hoping to hear, he let it go for the moment, and she drifted off into an uneasy slumber.

The next day, Jane seemed distracted, a little distant, and some of the fear she had felt came bubbling up to the surface.

She was on edge constantly, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.

So that evening, she was utterly unprepared when he got on one knee and pulled out a black velvet box.

She said yes before she even thought about it, dropping to her own knees and throwing her arms around his shoulders.

He gave a surprised laugh and kissed her like he meant it before sliding the ring on her hand. It was silver, the diamond solitaire glittering brightly from its setting. "And here I was all prepared to have to argue my case," he teased.

She sniffled, then smiled. "Apparently I have a weakness for handsome blonde guys wielding diamonds."

He laughed again. "Good to know. You know, for the eight hundred thousand times I'm going to make you mad in the next thirty five years."

"I think that's a pretty conservative estimate," she said, watching her new ring sparkle in the light of their kitchen.

"I prefer to be an optimist, my dear," he told her, stealing a kiss. "Either way, think of all the jewelry you'll be getting."

One week later, they were married in the courthouse, Rigsby and Van Pelt acting as witnesses while Cho wrangled their children. It had been short notice, but Lisbon was extremely thankful the team had managed to be together for this. Besides, seeing Cho with a toddler was priceless.

Her dress was white, simply because she wanted it to be, baby bump poking out just a hair. She lost track of the times Jane told her she was beautiful, but she smiled every time he said it.

His ring was silver this time, and it felt heavy as she slid it on his finger, like it was aware of how important a moment this was.

When they were pronounced husband and wife, her vision was a little misty. She doubted Jane noticed, however.

It was probably hard to see through his own tears.

When he bent to kiss her, it all ceased to matter. He was hers now, officially, legally, eternally, and every other way she could think of.

Her last, wild thought before their lips met was to wonder if he was going to keep calling her Lisbon.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **This is a bit shorter than normal, but if it didn't get posted now, I have no idea when I'd be able to get back to it. Similarly, I'm not sure when I'll have a new chapter ready to go. Life took a rather hectic turn yesterday, but hopefully when Christmas break is over, I'll have some time to write. I'm not very pleased with how this turned out, but I literally wrote this in a hospital waiting room while in a very hostile mood.

That being said: Happy New Year, people! Stay safe!

**Somewhere Beyond**

**Chapter Eight**

Lisbon insisted on keeping her last name at work.

He was fine with that. After all, he still called her Lisbon most of the time. It was a hard habit to break, though there were moments when she was decidedly _Teresa._

In the middle of the night, their hands and bodies tangled, yes, she was definitely Teresa then. Or when she had her arms wrapped around her middle, smiling as she felt little feet kicking. He couldn't wait to see her as a mother.

On the other hand, he was vaguely terrified about the whole thing.

He supposed no one could really blame him. There were fears in his mind that he hadn't had to face in a decade and a half. They were now coming to the surface.

He hadn't had to be afraid of losing his family.

He hadn't had to be afraid of coming home one night and finding a nightmare.

True, he had spent a great deal of time being worried about Lisbon. Towards the end of the last chapter of his life, he'd even spent an entire hour thinking she was dead.

It was different now.

She was his wife now. The mother of the child he was going to be meeting in a few short months.

For years, she had been the most important person in his life. It was amazing how much _more_ important she had become.

If he lost her now…there would be no coming back from it. She had been his salvation, all those years ago. There would be no one to save him again, no one who could.

And he wouldn't want to be, anyway.

It was late, going on midnight, when the plane landed at the airport in Austin. They had been gone for five days in Atlanta, working through a particularly complicated case. He'd thought they'd been a little too careful, but there was a suspected terrorist group involved, and that made everyone extra nervous.

Lisbon hadn't made the trip, her role in the proceedings limited to research and teleconferencing. He could see her visibly bristling on the screen, but in all honesty, he was glad she wouldn't be leaving her desk.

She had been quite creative in hiding her burgeoning stomach, but when she hit six months, she'd given up and simply embraced it.

It was also the time when Abbott had strictly forbidden her from going along as they investigated. She'd tried to argue, but the very next case saw them being met at the crime scene with a man who epitomized the words "armed and dangerous," and she'd given in with as much grace as she could muster.

It hadn't been much.

Personally, he was grateful that Abbott had been the one to pull the plug on her fieldwork. It saved him from having to spend a few nights on the couch, because he would have brought it up if the supervising agent hadn't.

He yawned widely as he stood, digging around in the overhead bin for his bag. All he wanted now was to be at home. Five days was entirely too long to be away from her, even if he had once left her for two years. It seemed impossible now.

The keys jingled merrily in his hand as he unlocked the door. She'd left one light on for him in the kitchen, the soft glow illuminating the spotless countertops and sink. Officially, then, they were entering the "nesting" period. He just hoped she didn't overdo it. That sounded like her, though.

As quietly as he could, he padded into the bedroom and slipped between the sheets, still warm with her body heat.

"Mmm," she murmured, turning into him. "Welcome home."

He opened his arms, letting her get comfortable. One of his hands went automatically to her stomach, and he grinned as he felt a kick.

"Baby letting you get any sleep?" he asked.

She chuckled tiredly. "Not really, but I'm not complaining."

No, she wasn't. And she hadn't. She was bearing the stress and strain of pregnancy gracefully, though he knew from experience that the worst was still to come.

"I suppose we should get used to that," he mused. "Not sleeping, I mean."

She shrugged. "At least it'll be for a good reason." Her hand settled over his. "I packed my hospital bag when you were gone."

"Does it contain ducky pajamas?"

Her smile was evident in her voice. "Oh, of course. I'm also pretty sure I have way too much stuff in it, but I just didn't know."

It was sort of endearing, seeing this side of her. She was normally so sure of herself, of her place in life and the world that this degree of uncertainty had caught him by surprise.

"Well, it's not like you're having the baby in Siberia," he told her. "If you forgot anything vital, I can come back for it."

She muttered something indistinctly into his chest, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Perhaps he needed to be gone for a few days to really appreciate what he had been missing. Not that he took her for granted, far from it, but having to wrap his arms around a hotel pillow for the past few days had put things in perspective.

Since they had been together, they had never really been apart. That was doubly true since she had gotten pregnant. He didn't want to be without her for any length of time.

This last trip was the longest he'd been away, and he decided that he was going to take any steps he needed to so that this could be avoided. This might mean a change from his usual shenanigans, but it would be worth it.

Six weeks later, she felt her first contraction, and her calm façade started to deteriorate. Poor Lisbon – she had read every piece of literature on the subject that she could get her hands on, but the idea of not having any amount of control over something so huge did not sit well on her narrow shoulders.

He knew she wanted something definite, some irrefutable sign that _this_ was labor or that _now_ was the time to call her doctor. Of course, that would certainly make him feel better as well, but babies kept their own schedules. Still, Lisbon despised the subjectivity of it all.

They finished the nursery one weekend, all done in shades of pale green. He had done most of the work; she had mainly rested in the rocking chair and supervised the process.

Sometimes, he still couldn't believe how easy being homey and domestic was with her.

Before Texas, he wasn't sure they had ever done much that wasn't connected to a case, at least distantly. It hadn't been a bad thing, really – after all, that was how they had gotten to know each other. Snippets of personal conversations here and there while driving out to crime scenes in the middle of the night, or a strange nugget of knowledge that led to a childhood story or bizarre hobby.

They had definitely not painted houses, or gone grocery shopping, or argued over what corner of the living room the Christmas tree should go in (he won – it obviously looked better in the southwest corner).

But there really hadn't been a transition between friends in love and actual lovers.

When he'd come back, they had simply been friends who weren't lovers yet. That had changed quickly, and they hadn't looked back since.

"Okay," she said abruptly, sitting on their bed and wrestling with a pair of socks. "I think I'm ready to be not pregnant any longer. I'd kill to be able to wear real pants again."

He smiled affectionately. "Soon, my dear. But just think of the ten weeks you'll spend in nothing but sweatpants. It has its perks."

She made a face at him, throwing the now discarded socks in his general direction. He caught them easily, then lightly tossed them back at her.

She reached over for them, then stopped abruptly, face going taut.

He was at her side in a moment, noting that her hand went across her stomach.

"Contraction?" he asked, but she didn't speak.

Instead, she took several deep breaths. Her expression didn't smooth out.

"Lisbon?" he prompted again. "Talk to me."

"I think," she finally said, slowly, "I think maybe we should start getting some stuff around. You know, to go." He words were halting, like she was thinking of something else while speaking.

For the first time in forever, he had no smart comment to make. He simply did as he was told. He could feel his heart rate increase, and in the back of his mind, he kept thinking that he needed for Lisbon to stay calm.

Even though he had done this before, it was decidedly different now. For one, Lisbon was much older than Angela had been, and there were more things that could go wrong. Simply because of her age she had been classified as a high-risk case. He had never told her, but it made him lose sleep.

The more relaxed she was, the better it would be for everyone.

In three minutes, he was standing in front of her again. "What are you thinking?" he asked softly.

She raised her eyes to his, and he saw pain and fear mingled together.

"Alright," he said, changing track immediately. "We're leaving."

Carefully, very carefully, he helped her into the car. He sped on the way to the hospital, worried that some idiot patrolman would pull them over. He was not prepared to have this baby on the side of the freeway.

Once they reached the hospital, things seemed to be happening very quickly. With shaking hands, he smoothed her hair back as she was strapped into monitors and blood pressure cuffs.

A helpful nurse informed them that they were indeed going to have a baby in the next few hours, and he used every ounce of biofeedback control he had to not to something absurd, like start laughing hysterically.

Things started to blur together, and before he knew it, Lisbon was gripping his hand fiercely tight, face set in grim determination.

It seemed like an hour, but in reality, he found it was more like twenty minutes when the doctor told them triumphantly that they had a baby girl.

And then he heard the first cry.

Saw her precious face, bright red with indignation and wailing.

And he remembered what it was like to fall in love again.


	9. Epilogue

**AN**: Well folks, this is the end. What? Yeah. At some point, I may do a sequel to this. For right now, however, I needed to wrap it up. I still plan on doing episode tags if the proverbial spirit moves me, but my time is extremely limited now, and it's not fair to you guys if I make you wait for updates.

That being said...thank you everyone for your support with this story. It's been fun (even if the plot started doing things I didn't plan on...stupid plot), and I've really enjoyed writing it.

Oh, and if you're wondering...their baby is definitely named after someone. In this fandom, even. I'm willing to bet (a lot) that you know who she is, but I'm not giving it away. ;)

**Somewhere Beyond**

**Epilogue**

Four weeks after their little family came home from the hospital, Lisbon woke abruptly out of a sound sleep. It took her a second to figure out why.

The bassinet at the side of the bed was empty.

So was the place beside her.

With a smile that was half-amused and half-annoyed, she rolled herself out of bed, pleased to note that it was getting easier every day. The first two weeks had been sort of rough - a new baby who didn't seem to need to sleep at night and a body that liked to remind her she was in her 40s and had just given birth.

Jane had been remarkable, however, slipping back into the role of father as though he had never missed a beat.

In fact, sometimes it seemed like he was only willing to surrender baby Elyse to her when their normally content child demanded food. Loudly.

She gave him a great deal of leniency when it came to how often he wanted to hold their daughter. He had his reasons to want to constantly be connected to her, and she could not and would not take that away.

The living room was dark, but the glow from the streetlights pooled on the floor in patches. Jane was in the recliner, a small bundle snuggled against his shoulder.

He smiled sleepily as she came into his field of vision.

"Someone woke up," he said, very quietly.

Lisbon raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'd really love it if Elyse would learn to sleep somewhere other than on you." That was quite true. Why on earth would she want to rest in a bassinet when there was a warm human to lay on?

It could have been the light, but she thought Jane might have looked vaguely guilty. "She sleeps in her bed," he protested.

"Right," she replied. "Until she squeaks once. And then you swoop in."

Jane switched tactics, adopting his best puppy dog face. "But she's so sweet," he nearly whined. "And she's never going to be this small again."

She couldn't help her smile. "You know, I've learned that's something parents say to themselves to justify doing something they know they probably shouldn't be."

Jane's subsequent chuckled made the baby squirm, and he quickly patted her on the back. In a moment, one chubby cheek squished against her father's shoulder.

Their child was going to be outrageously spoiled. A large part of that would be Jane's doing, but she herself was guilty of over indulging her own whims. The closet in the nursery was stuffed full of frilly pink things, since she had seemingly been unable to resist buying _anything_ at the mall.

Their living room was littered with baby gyms and developmental toys that tended to start playing music whenever they felt like it, which was usually immediately after she had laid a snoozing baby in her swing.

Although Jane justified his actions by saying Elyse wouldn't be so small forever, she herself validated what she was doing by saying this was going to be her only child.

It was probably even true. Maybe.

She was amazed at how different life had become. There was no more simply grabbing her purse and running to the store if they needed something. She had learned to do a ridiculous amount of things with one hand, and sometimes, she didn't even get to brush her hair before noon.

But it was worth it.

The first time she had seen a toothless smile, she had been moved to tears.

She'd lost track of the pictures she'd taken of Jane stretched out with the baby on his chest.

Though she was positive he'd been telling the truth when he'd told her that his life was complete with just her, she knew he had wanted this more than he was letting on.

"Come here," he said abruptly, holding out his free arm.

Carefully, slowly, she crawled onto his lap, making sure she remembered how this felt. Jane kissed her hair, then turned his attention back to their daughter.

"We make cute babies," he remarked matter-of-factly.

"This is true," she agreed easily. She was still torn about who Elyse looked like. When she was first born, she saw Jane in the tiny features, but that had faded a bit. Strange - she had never particularly been in love with how she looked before, but now the idea that their baby would have her eyes or her lips seemed to have monumental importance.

Jane tucked his arm tighter around her. "We should get her a puppy."

She rolled her eyes. "Easy there, tiger. We already have one small creature who isn't housebroken. Let's wait to get another one."

He softly nuzzled her shoulder. "Do you mean a puppy or a baby?"

She turned slightly, facing him. His eyes were bright, smiling. "Ask me again in six months."

So he did.

And she said yes.

To both of them.

**AN: Thanks for reading! Hope you didn't choke on all the fluff! **


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